Page 100 of One Little Mistake

“Ah, that explains it. Pirates have gotten real bold lately, so owners don’t take chances. We won’t go through the canal without armed escort.”

“Shit. I forgot about that.”

I don’t usually watch the news, but now and then I catch headlines—another cargo ship hijacked, another oil tanker seized. Hard to believe that kind of thing still happens in the twenty-first century.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” I ask.

“Not in my experience,” the guy shrugs.

“That’s good.” I exhale and dive into work, trying to keep my hands busy and my mind off my girl.

We sit at anchor for another three days, and the crew is losing their minds from boredom. We even organize a fishing contest. With a makeshift rod, we haul up a few big fish and grill them for dinner.

On the fourth day, the green light finally comes in from the office—we’re cleared to move on. Anchor’s up, engine’s full throttle. The rumble, the rocking—all of it so familiar I barely notice anymore. By now, it’s completely dark outside, and there’s nothing to see but black. The salty air sharpens my thoughts, and the wind slaps my face just enough to keep me alert.

“Where’s the security detail?” I ask the captain, who’s staring into the darkness ahead like he’s expecting something to crawl out of it.

“Not joining until later. Another hundred miles and we’ll hit the rendezvous point. The mercs will board there.”

“Got it.” I nod and step away from the railing.

On my way to the cabin, I swing through the galley and make a strong cup of coffee. Then I lie down on my bunk, staring at the ceiling, gripping my phone tight. Still no signal. I hope we anchor near a port soon—somewhere with reception—just so I can send Erin a message. I miss her. Desperately. When she lived just one floor below, it was enough just to know she was near. That alone gave me peace. Now, with thousands of miles between us, the need to hold her, to run my eyes over her face, to hear her voice… it’s unbearable.

In the tiny bathroom, I barely fit in the shower stall—one of the perks of being a tall guy, I guess. I’m standing in front of themirror, wondering if I should shave the beard, when I suddenly hear shouting. Then a noise—distant, sharp, unmistakable.

Gunfire?

I turn off the water and still. No… That can’t be. This isn’t some action movie. It’s only been a week since I joined the crew. There’s no way something like that’s happening.

Silence.

A few more seconds tick by. Then it hits—the general alarm blares through the entire ship.

Seven short blasts. One long.

Shit. Not this. Please, not this.

CHAPTER 37

Erin

I didn’t even notice when I fell asleep, but I wake up late in the afternoon to the sound of Tim crying loudly. I jolt awake, my eyes darting across the wall, disoriented for a second until memories come rushing back, crashing into me and yanking me into reality.

I grab my phone. Almost noon. And over twenty missed calls from Max. My fingers clench tightly around the phone, my heart starts racing. Now that I’ve cooled off—now that the fog of anger and resentment has lifted, now that the sharp sting of disappointment isn’t whispering worst-case scenarios in my ear—I realize how foolish I’ve been. I didn’t talk to him, didn’t give him a chance to explain. I just ran, like a coward with her tail between her legs.

With a clearer head, I suddenly remember how Max’s ex-wife once showed up in the middle of the night. I remember the scattered hints he dropped about her. And I realize—if I had only been a fling to him, he wouldn’t have asked me to stay at his place, wouldn’t have told me to wait for him to come back from sea, wouldn’t have talked about a future together… right?

Ughhh, what have I done?

I was supposed to see him off, to say goodbye at the port. Instead, I panicked, jumped to conclusions—ones I can’t even be sure were right. Or maybe I’m just fooling myself again?

I hold Tim in my arms, trying to calm him down, and before I can chicken out, I hit the call button. I try to reach Max, but the line says “unavailable”. I pace around the apartment, lost in a whirlwind of doubt and indecision. I close my eyes and force myself to imagine a life without him. That we’ve broken up. Thathe left me for someone else. And just that thought… it breaks me. I realize I can’t do it. I can’t lose him.

Maybe I should just pretend nothing happened? Go downstairs, ask the concierge for the key, move my stuff back into apartment 217, and leave the rest up to fate? Just erase what I saw last night. Blame it on my imagination playing tricks on me.

I pause and think for a few minutes. Then I realize—I don’t have to pretend. I can find out for sure.

If Max really cheated on me, there’s bound to be some trace of it in his apartment.

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